


I live as I'm meant to

by captainhurricane



Category: Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, character-study, that's a first, written in second person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratonhnhaké:ton is a boy, a teenager and then a man. A warrior, a guardian and a wolf; a mess of barely contained brutal strength. He is kind and he tries. Ratonhnhaké:ton is all of this. (ps. spoilery for the game.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I live as I'm meant to

**Author's Note:**

> I have many thoughts buzzing in my head about Connor and some of them are written here. Perhaps not in the most coherent form (I rarely plan before writing) but in some form, no less. 
> 
> I've also apparently written his Mohawk-name wrong for ages. /cries a bit. 
> 
> ps. comments are welcome, I don't bite.

_part 1_  
skip, skip, skip you go, small heart under a small chest and not a care in the world. years don’t really matter, especially when you have not lived many of them, when your mother is the center of your universe, she is the moon and a guiding light and you do not know any other way. you would not have it any other way. skip, skip, skip you go and you smile in a way no little boys should smile. you do not think much of the greatness of your shadow or the man your mother told you was your father; what are they to you but tiny parts of your tiny life.

you do not spare your child’s thoughts towards big and dark things, you live for the whispers of the forest and the laughter of your friends; for your mother whose smile never quite reaches her eyes. you do not think of dark things until you smell the burning wood and your mother is nothing but a whisper in the wind.

 

_part 2_  
you lose things and you gain things; so you learn as you grow. you hunt and run and the frontier sighs and mourns your fate. you grow tall (and taller), the dark of your eyes hide a soul older than it should be. you are not the boy who walked into a burning village and yet you are, yet some part of you is still there, screaming yourself hoarse. you grow bitter and angry and sad yet you show none of these, you know how to be a child and a teenager and you hunt and live as only you can.

you do not forget the face of the man you saw in the forest the day your mother— no one forgets a sight like that. you hold this man’s face inside you, keep it in the same place as you keep the never-seen face of your father. you do not dwell on dark things and you do not smile.

 

_part 3_  
the heart is strong and grows stronger still, as you have come to notice. one foot in the past, piece of your heart forever pierced with the memory of your mother’s words. you are a warrior, yet you are so young, so young. you find a place for yourself, you gain new bonds and find older ones, you gain revenge yet are left with nothing. protector and a guardian, tall and imposing you are as you walk amongst mankind, your duty makes your blood run faster in your veins, makes you slip through the crowds and trees as they were nothing. the treebarks are rough under your palms. the woods whisper to you as you lay down to sleep.

you do not forget the being who spoke to you when you were younger (and younger still), the object thrumming with life in your hands. you do not forget the journey through the sky and all the lives you could live and have lived.you do not forgive until your blade steals a life that should not have been stolen, until you write the words under his exquisite painting and the grief grips your heart.

you dig graves. the ground beneath you feels shallow. you speak to the heavens and the rain, to the animals and the house that is empty now. you gain no answer.


End file.
